Wild Chile
Nothing brings a woman face-to-face with her highest hopes and worst fears quite like stepping into a foreign country in which she is to spend the foreseeable future. That’s how I felt upon first arriving in Chile, my one-month-old daughter strapped to my chest, barely knowing how to ask where the bathroom was in Spanish. As my husband, Richard, helped our two-year-old, our three older children, aged five to nine, staunchly donned their backpacks, and we crossed a boundary into the unknown.
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A Real New York Pastrami Sandwich
Max grunted as he set down his heavy garment bag. The enticing scent of pastrami wafted back to him from the front of the line. Way too skimpy on the meat. And airport prices, of course. He should wait. He’d be in New York soon. Then he could get a real one, piled so high with perfectly smoked and steamed beef that it would look like a Swiss chalet, with rivulets of salty, greasy juice filtering through the layers, adding their flavors to the tangy rye. In New York, he could choose a different deli for each day of the week, and they’d all be fantastic.
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Run of the Titan
… What followed seemed not of this world. The taxi’s engine let loose a lunatic shriek as its body struck sideways at the patrol car. The shocked face of the officer flashed past us, and I watched him struggle for a time behind us, getting his car under control. With a resolute air, he renewed the chase and drew his gun, aiming at a rear tire. I heard a bullet strike metal …